


Worth the Wait

by quiet__tiger



Series: Worth It [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Massage, heat vision is useful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 14:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10698720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Bruce finally gets his massage.





	Worth the Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal Aug. 8th, 2006.

Clark had magical hands.

Bruce had had plenty of occasions to notice aspects of Clark’s hands and fingers, be they using a computer, fixing his cape, throwing something, or even down Bruce’s pants. But he’d never known just quite how _good_ they were.

Bruce was face-down on the massage table, small towel over his ass for a semblance of decency, soft music playing through speakers concealed around the room. Clark was behind him, above him, whichever plane was more accurate; Bruce didn’t really care at the moment. What he cared about was the way Clark used his giant hands on the muscles in his back.

Clark had started off with Bruce’s feet, somehow knowing where and how to touch to not be too ticklish. His calves were next, his hamstrings, and it was a damn good thing because between the game and holding himself up in the shower, he was sore. Clark’s thumbs digging into the backs of his knees were somehow incredibly pleasurable. Then up to his thighs, where Clark’s warm hands induced wonderful twinges.

He really hoped there wasn’t an emergency any time soon that required Batman’s services. He wasn’t entirely sure if his muscles were solid enough right now to support his weight.

Bruce groaned as Clark. Did something. To his shoulders, the action mildly painful, but the resulting flow of warmth was more than worth it.

“Bruce, you okay?”

Clark wanted him to _talk_? He settled on a grunt that he knew Clark could interpret.

“Good. Just want to make sure I’m not hurting you.” As if to test Bruce’s affirmation, Clark dug in with the tips of his fingers, hitting a knot that Bruce could feel was there but wasn’t quite sure how big it was. Bruce grunted again. He didn't think the oil Clark was using was necessary.

Clark must have seen another knot, because he dug his fingers then palm in again a few inches over. This time, though, there was a sharp blast of heat to melt the ache away. “God…”

There was a deep chuckle near his ear as Clark bent over him to press deeper. “You like that?”

“Ynnh…” He really did try to answer that time, but Clark stretched the muscles in his lower back, pushing them in opposite directions. Another sharp blast of heat to the base of his spine, and Bruce was definitely getting aroused, the sensations Clark was inducing too pleasurable.

“Heat vision has its uses outside of making popcorn and cutting doors into things.”

Bruce might have replied, maybe, if Clark hadn’t dug his thumbs into another tight spot. His body twitched in response as if every nerve had been tightened into that muscle. Clark rubbed his hands back up to Bruce’s neck. The press of Clark’s big thumbs was just… They tickled and relaxed and… Bruce’s body relaxed further as the tension in those muscles released, a surge of dopamine coursing through his body. Bruce felt the beginnings of a not-unwelcome erection.

Back down Bruce’s spine, turning more of Bruce’s hard body into gelatin. He wasn’t sure he’d survive if Clark tried any deep tissue methods. Clark blasted another burst of heat right above the towel, then dug the heels of his hands into the surrounding muscle.

Then he climbed on top of him, thighs spread over the towel. Bruce knew it was to get a better angle for the massage, but did he really need to rock his hips that much?

No.

“God, Clark…” Heavy pressure underneath his shoulder blades, and a little shimmy from Clark.

“Okay, Bruce?”

“Any better, and I’d.” Bruce breathed out a heavy exhale as another knot was loosened. “Be a puddle.”

Another deep chuckle as Clark inched his body up Bruce’s. Because he was partially expecting it, Bruce didn’t jump at the sudden onslaught of a hot, wet mouth sucking on the back of his neck. Instead, his smiled slightly as Clark thrust his groin against him as he bit lightly at the nape of Bruce’s neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Obviously nothing very good if you don’t know.” Clark thrust his hips again then ground down against Bruce’s ass.

Bruce wanted that ridiculous little towel _gone_.

As if he were telepathic, Clark rose up off him and yanked the offensive cloth away. As he settled back down, Bruce’s assumptions that Clark was both naked and erect were confirmed. Clark didn’t stop working Bruce’s muscles, he just mixed kisses in between the rubbing and squeezing.

Bruce started rubbing himself against the table. Years and years of training his body to perfection and discipline had not prepared it for Superman. For Clark, with his boyish grin, big heart, and leadership ability, his hot, hard body and the way he was sometimes so easily confused when it came to the everyday world. Bruce had already come twice not too long ago, but here he was, squirming into a table just because Clark touched him.

Granted, Clark touched him purposefully with those huge, skilled hands, relaxing him practically beyond care, but still. One of these days he needed to train himself out of this habit.

He groaned as Clark laved his spine.

One of these days, but not today.

Or tomorrow.

“Bruce.” Clark kissed over Bruce’s tailbone. “Can you turn over?”

Bruce honestly wasn’t sure. “Why?”

“I have to get your front.”

“Chest doesn’t need massaging.”

“Oh.” Clark started sucking on the bottom corner of Bruce’s scapula. “Okay.”

Bruce didn’t even wait for Clark to move to the other side before he flipped himself over, the move far less graceful than it would be under any other circumstances. He didn’t even acknowledge Clark’s smirk, he just reached up to pull Clark down by the neck. Clark’s mouth was just as insistent on Bruce’s own as it was anywhere else on his body. And continued to be when it covered Bruce’s nipple and worked it the way it did Bruce’s shoulder blade. A bolt of pleasure shot straight through Bruce's body to his groin and back again.

Bruce toyed with the idea of making Clark go onto his back so he could have some time on top, but if he did that he wouldn’t have Clark’s weight on him. And he’d have to actually exert his recently-relaxed muscles. Instead, he chose to clarify, “Not up for penetration.”

Clark lifted his dark head from Bruce’s chest. “Fine.” And he moved his hips faster. “I. Wasn’t sure I could do more, either.” Bruce rubbed at the hair on the back of Clark’s head, and Clark moaned against Bruce’s chest.

Bruce worked harder against Clark, and reached down to cup his ass, and Clark surged forwards to kiss Bruce again. Bruce had been aroused for what felt like hours, the shower's activities helping a lot, but it still didn’t quench it completely. Hearing Clark’s little moans, feeling his toned body rubbing against his own, Clark pulling his head to the side to press his teeth into Bruce’s neck pushed Bruce higher and higher, wound him tighter and tighter all over again.

Before too long it was too much, Clark too good against him, and Bruce came between them, his hands clenching against the impervious skin as he arched into Clark. It took Clark a little while longer to come; he hadn’t had Bruce touching him for wonderful, endless minutes; Bruce wasn’t quite sure how many it was at this point other than a lot. 

Clark settled on Bruce’s left side, his left hand running over Bruce’s chest, then down towards his groin, then back up again. He traced a scar that ran along Bruce’s rib cage, and moved to a bullet wound on the other side.

Clark prodded at the scar. “This is old, right?”

“Yes.”

“This one too?” Clark rubbed along another one.

“Yes.”

“The massage was good?”

“Worth the wait.”

“You really needed it?”

“Yes. I hurt before.”

“You feel good now?”

“Wonderful.” Limp, exhausted. Satiated.

“Good.” Clark poked another scar. “Your body looks like a war zone, and you get bent out of shape from rugby?”

Bruce abruptly turned onto his side and pushed Clark off the edge of the table. “Yes.”

Blue eyes looked at him from beyond the edge of the table, dark brows curled over them in a scowl. “That wasn't nice.”

“You can fly and catch yourself. You’re levitating right now.”

Clark harrumphed, then turned upright so he could stand. Bruce watched the light catch in Clark’s muscles, watched them flex under that skin. “Rugby uses all different muscles in different ways. I don’t play organized sports.”

Clark turned his grin on him. “Just teasing. Come on, we should shower again.” He reached out a hand, and Bruce took it.

“I suppose I could be persuaded.” Bruce followed Clark to the shower, those strong, broad shoulders in front of him mildly hypnotic as he walked. 

It had certainly been an interesting day, between the rugby, sex, and fantastic massage. Obviously the League needed to have another picnic some time soon.


End file.
